The Trial
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: The world as Duncan knows it falls apart when Amanda is murdered and his life is at stake in a trial held by other Immortals.
1. Chapter 1

The Trial

Amanda was dead. Her Watcher had confirmed it; Joe had been contacted, and he had called Duncan MacLeod to break the news to him. After the call, MacLeod had gone out to find the body before the Watchers disposed of it to see it for himself. Methos went after MacLeod to make sure he didn't get himself killed. They found the body in the middle of an empty street. The head was next to the body, the knees had been covered with muck to emphasize the last moments of her life spent with her on her knees begging to be spared, and the body had graffiti words all over it: whore, thief, slut, coward, weak, useless, bitch.

"Who would do this?" Duncan asked.

"She was over a thousand years old," Methos said rather coldly, "Could've been anybody, she made plenty of enemies over the years."

Duncan turned to him with accusing eyes, "Are you saying she brought this on herself?"

"Since the day Amanda was born there was a target on her back, you know that, there's no use in pretending it wasn't so. She was Immortal, she got her head cut off, it's the Game, MacLeod, you either follow it or you die, you know that, and Amanda never fought worth a damn in her life, she always ran and hid, first behind Rebecca, then behind you. What the hell did Rebecca even waste her time for? She's probably spent the last several years spinning in her grave if she knew all her hard work was wasted for nothing."

Methos turned around and started to walk away.

"Where're you going?" Duncan demanded to know.

"Adam Pierson is going to see if this is a pattern of somebody's work," Methos answered as he disappeared into the night, leaving Duncan alone with the body.

* * *

It was after midnight when Duncan returned to the barge. He just couldn't believe it, Amanda dead. He thought for sure that she would be around longer than this. Before he entered the barge he could feel the presence of another Immortal from within. Stepping cautiously into the front room, Duncan looked around and saw a woman with curly blonde hair and wearing a black trench coat, standing in the kitchen slicing a fruit.

"For supposing to have slept with so many men, she sure wasn't pretty was she?" the woman asked, not identifying herself, "Boney, all those freckles, _ugly_ teeth, and that ass, all she could ever do with it was haul it behind a human shield."

"Who are you?" Duncan demanded to know, "What are you doing here?"

"Who says I am here?" she asked as she popped a chunk of pineapple in her mouth, "Maybe I'm just another figment of your mentally defected or diseased mind. Have you been seeing anymore red-eyed corpses lately? Getting the urge to decapitate anymore students that you consider family?"

Duncan had the presence of mind not to flat out charge at the woman but he advanced towards her with his sword drawn and he demanded again to know who she was and what the hell she was doing in his home.

"Maybe you're just planning to get out your little black book and find some other dinosaur date to boink to commemorate losing the love of your life," she said, "I'm sure Tessa would be so thrilled to know she was replaced in your bed by a thief who had as much purpose in this life as a novelty item from the corner sex shop, who needs to screw men for security. 'Oh Duncan please, help me steal this' 'Duncan, sleep with me so you won't be angry when I tell you who's coming for my head'. 'Duncan, sleep with me and help me do something that'll get us both killed because I'm too weak to do anything for myself!'"

Duncan swung his hand out to hit the woman but she stepped back and quick as a gunslinger, drew out of her coat, a stun gun and used it on him. Duncan howled as the electricity ripped through his body. She hit him and he fell to the ground, his sword sliding across the floor and out of his reach. Before Duncan could get up, a plastic bag was wrapped around his head and though he struggled, he couldn't get away and he couldn't tear it off and he started to asphyxiate.

When Duncan came to, he was dazed, disoriented, nauseous, and he was chained to the wall of some dark room that resembled a dungeon. He could hear the water dripping on the walls and it reminded him of being in a cavern, where the hell was he? Before he could yell for anybody, he heard footsteps, and voices. Immediately following them were several very strong Quickenings; the door on the other side of the room opened and four Immortals all dressed in black entered the room.

"Who the hell are you?" Duncan said as he fought to stay conscious, "What's going on?"

The Immortals said nothing and instead, two of them went over to the wall and unlocked the shackles, only to cuff his hands tightly behind his back and the four of them walked him out of the room and down a long, dark corridor.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded to know, "WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?"

Nobody answered him and nobody said anything. The silence was what unnerved him the most, if he had any idea what was going on, or why he was here…but none of them said a word as they headed to the end of the hall and came to a door. One of the men opened the door and they walked him in. The room was dark and he couldn't see anything but he could feel the Quickenings of several more Immortals in the room. He was escorted over to the end of the room and shoved and he fell back and landed in a chair.

The lights came on, just enough that he could make out what was in the room and roughly how many people, and he saw that he seemed to be in a courtroom. There was a judge, there was the prosecution, there were spectators, and there seemed to be a bailiff as well.

"Duncan MacLeod," the judge turned to him, "You are on trial for your life, your plea is irrelevant as it will be up to the jury to decide your innocence or guilt."

"Oh what charge?" he asked, not having any idea what the hell was going on and feeling like he was stuck in a nightmare.

"Charge_s_, MacLeod, several charges," the judge said, "Bailiff, read back the charges."

The Immortal standing near the judge's podium picked up a clipboard and read from the top sheet, "Aiding and abetting, accessory to burglary, accessory to murder, conspiracy to commit murder in the first degree, murder in the first degree, murder in the second degree, oh, and one charge of attempted assault of an arresting officer."

Duncan looked and he saw the same blonde woman looking coy and so sure of herself to the other Immortals.

"Prosecution will begin," the judge said and tapped his gavel.

The prosecutor got up and went over to the witness stand and hovered over Duncan in a condescending manner.

"Duncan MacLeod," he said, "The list of charges against you are so unconscionable I'm not even sure where to begin. But perhaps a good place to start would be your role in the crimes committed by the late Amanda Darieux."

Duncan's eyes widened at that word, late…it hit him, these had to be the ones responsible for killing her.

"What did you do to her?" Duncan asked.

The judge beat his gavel and warned Duncan to limit his comments to the questions asked.

"You were aware she was a thief, were you not?" the prosecutor asked.

"Yes but…"

"Yes or no, MacLeod, were you aware she was a thief?"

"Yes."

"And did you ever do anything to stop her?"

"Well I told her she…"

"Yes or no…did you ever call the police on her for the crimes she committed?"

"No, but…"

"I'm sorry?" the prosecutor went over to his desk, picked up a paper and said, "Your Honor if it pleases the court, I offer into evidence a record that shows on May 10th, 1997, the police in Paris received an anonymous call in regards to where they could find some stolen gems which were in Amanda Darieux's possession at the time."

"So ordered," the judge said.

"Did you make this call, MacLeod?" the prosecutor asked.

"Yes."

"So you knew that her taking those jewels was a criminal act?"

"Yes."

"So…do you condone crime, MacLeod?"

"No I don't but…"

"But in the 300 years you knew Amanda Darieux; it only crossed your mind _once_ to report her to the authorities…where was she for the rest of that time?"

"I don't understand."

"Was she imprisoned before and after your tip to the police?"

"No."

"In fact, didn't she come and go as she pleased, whenever she pleased?"

"Yes."

"And in fact, didn't she come to you in April of 1993, she came to you for assistance in helping her commit another burglary?"

"Well she was…"

"Yes or no, MacLeod."

"Yes."

"And did you report her to the police then?"

"No."

"In fact, you didn't do anything to stop her at all. Isn't it true that you did in fact aid her in committing the robbery, did you not?"

"Yes."

"What was your relationship with Amanda Darieux?"

Duncan looked to the judge, "Do I have to answer that?"

"Do it."

"We were lovers."

"Meaning you just screwed her every which way for 300 years, doesn't it?"

Duncan got up and tried to lunge at the prosecution but the bailiff knocked him back in his seat.

"The two of you were never married, were you?"

"No."

"You never proposed marriage, did you?"

"No."

"And you two didn't live together, she just came around whenever she wanted something and the two of you screwed until the crack of dawn, you did what she wanted and she left."

"Wait a minute!" Duncan exclaimed, and turned to the judge, "Where is my defense? This is a trial, I'm entitled to my own attorney."

"You are entitled to the ability to act as your own defense, MacLeod," the judge told him, "Use it."

"I loved her," Duncan answered.

"Apparently…how soon after your live-in girlfriend Tessa Noel's death were you sweating up the sheets with Amanda Darieux?"

Duncan's jaw dropped and at first he couldn't say anything, then remembering he was his own defense, he said the only thing that could come to mind, "Objection!"

"Sustained," the judge said.

"In October of 1992, you encountered a then pre-Immortal boy named Richie Ryan, how did you come to know him?"

"He…broke into our antique shop."

"But you dropped the charges against him and invited him to live with you, correct?"

"Yes."

The prosecutor looked up from his papers and said quite bluntly, "Were you sleeping with him too, MacLeod?"

"Objection!"

"Overruled, defendant will answer," the judge said.

"No, I wasn't."

"Too bad, maybe if you had been he would still be alive given the ratio of friends you kill versus lovers, if you screw somebody it generally betters their chances of you not killing them," the prosecutor said.

"Objection!"

"You remember an Immortal named Kristin, you met her, in 1659? She killed the woman you loved, she tried to kill your student, she almost killed his girlfriend and she tried to kill you, how many opportunities did you have to kill her and you did not because you had sex with her 300 years before? If she had been a man would you have had any trouble killing her then for her crimes? Did you even _want_ her dead or were you just thinking of how many more times you could nail her?"

The judge banged his gavel.

"Withdrawn," the prosecutor calmly added, "Did you hate your student, MacLeod?"

"No I didn't."

"No, then why after he took his first head and was still a new Immortal and confused, did you send him away? Did he dishonor you? Did he shame you?"

"I sent him away because that's how I was taught."

"By your cousin, one Connor MacLeod?"

"Yes."

"And when did you meet him? Around 1625 was it not?"

"Yes."

"So that was three hundred and seventy-five years ago. Do you incorporate other rules from 375 years ago into your way of life now? Do you sleep in a cave? Do you kill animals for food? Do you kill people as dictated by the law of the land and the law today recognizes it as justifiable? No, they don't and you don't so why then did you feel it necessary to follow this particular rule that fell out of style at the same time of matching stomachers and petticoats?"

"He was ready to leave."

"He told you this?"

"…No."

"So you decided he was ready…did you also decide where he was to live? What he was to do for work?"

"No."

"No? When he was flat track racing in Europe didn't you lecture him about using his Immortality to his advantage?"

"Immortality is a gift, it's not something to be taken lightly."

"And yet that didn't stop you from being dropped out a window and killed, and returning to the same place the next night and hanging the man who dropped you, out the window, did it?"

"That was different."

"Do you always get back up after you're killed and go about your life as though nothing had happened?"

"Sometimes."

"So you use your Immortality to your own advantages, and when _you_ do it, it's alright, but when anybody else does it, it's wrong."

"That is not true," Duncan said.

"No? You recall a woman named Jennifer Hill?" the prosecutor asked.

"Yes."

"Married to a friend of yours, Alec Hill, correct?"

"Yes."

"He lost his head, and you went to kill Gerard Kragen, why?"

"Because I promised Alec if he died, I would kill Kragen to avenge his wife Genevieve's death _which_ Gerard Kragen caused 110 years ago."

"Kragen killed Genevieve, and you promised to kill Kragen to avenge hers and Alec Hill's deaths. Why?"

"I don't understand," Duncan said.

"Kragen wasn't the one who killed Alec Hill, was he?"

"No."

"Your student, Richie Ryan did."

"Yes."

"And Jennifer Hill came after Richie Ryan to kill him, and you stopped her, why? Weren't your exact words that killing Richie would not bring Alec back?"

"Something like that."

"But killing Kragen would bring Genevieve back?"

"No."

"Or Alec Hill?"

"No."

"And when you killed a man named James Horton, did that bring your friend Darius back?"

Duncan tried to jump to his feet again, "James Horton was a Hunter, he…"

"Yes or no, MacLeod, did it bring Darius back?"

"No."

"And you were familiar with an Immortal named Byron, is that also correct?"

"Yes."

"And you killed him."

"Yes."

"Did he challenge you?"

"No."

"Did he threaten you?"

"No."

"Why then did you kill him?"

"Because he killed a friend of mine."

"And killing Byron, did that bring your friend back?"

"No."

"So you kill people knowing that their deaths won't bring back the people they killed."

"Yes."

"So why then when your student Richie Ryan, found Mark Roszca, the man who murdered Tessa Noel, you convinced him it would be wrong to kill Mr. Roszca simply because it wouldn't bring Tessa back?" the prosecutor asked.

"He was mortal, he had a family."

"So did James Horton."

"Horton was a murderer!" Duncan jumped up again.

The judge slammed down his gavel and yelled at Duncan to sit down or they would hold him in contempt and return him to the dungeon.

"Tonight when the whore Amanda Darieux was murdered, did you want vengeance?"

"Yes!"

"Had you planned to seek out vengeance?"

"Yes!"

"Knowing it wouldn't bring her back?"

"Yes!" Duncan answered.

"I see…a time from time floozy is worth avenging, but the woman who lived with you, put up with you and risked her life for you for 12 years isn't, so nice to know where your priorities lie," the prosecutor said.

"I object!" Duncan screamed.

"Withdrawn," the prosecutor calmly remarked, "You testified earlier that Byron had killed a friend of yours. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Duncan said, starting to calm down.

"How?"

"What?"

"How did Byron kill him?"

"He gave him drugs."

"By 'gave', do you mean he forced them into the man's veins himself?"

"No."

"Did he put a gun to his head and make him take the drugs?"

"No."

"But you still think he's responsible for your friend's death."

"Yes."

"Because he had drugs and gave them to him?"

"Yes."

"Really, was this friend of yours a 4 year old? Because otherwise, wasn't he aware that illegal substances carry with them, very serious risks which could lead to death?"

"Yes but…"

"So, your friend knew the risks, disregarded them, took the drugs, died, and that is Byron's fault?"

"Mike idolized Byron, he wanted to be like him."

"Byron took drugs and it didn't kill him," The prosecutor said.

"Yes, but he was Immortal."

"And your friend wasn't?"

"No."

"However, MacLeod, millions of people take drugs for years on end and they don't die."

"That's my point exactly, Mike thought the same would apply to him."

"And that is Byron's fault?"

"Yes."

"So," the prosecutor said, "You go around killing everybody who gives people drugs, or just the ones who supply them to your friends?"

"No."

"In fact, you've taken drugs in your own lifetime, haven't you?"

"That was a long time ago," Duncan replied, "Things have changed."

"Because drugs are illegal?"

"Yes."

"However, just about every rock star in the world takes drugs and they're not all imprisoned for it…so do you plan to kill all of them because they might influence some young, impressionable friend of yours to do drugs which will kill them?"

"No."

"But it was alright to do it to Byron simply because he was Immortal?"

"Byron knew better than to tell mortals they had to live like him to be like him."

"MacLeod, _every_ person involved with drugs knows better, nobody cares, your friend knew that drugs were dangerous, he didn't care, he was idiotic enough to do something dangerous just because a famous person told him to do it. If Byron had told your friend to jump off a bridge and your friend did, that would be Byron's fault also? Has your friend no responsibility of his own?"

"Mike already paid the price with his life."

"He paid the price for the actions made from his own decisions, so how do you find it logical that another person's life must be taken to balance the scales? He didn't inject the drugs into the kid's veins, he didn't put a gun to his forehead and tell him to take them, he just offered them, and the kid, knowing the risks, took them, and he died. Because he was so addlebrained he would do anything to impress somebody famous. Did it ever occur to you, MacLeod, that this is just the price simple minded people must pay for falling under the lure of idol worship?" the prosecutor asked.

"Mike didn't deserve to die," Duncan insisted.

"But Byron did?"

"Yes."

"And Kragen?"

"Yes."

"And what about Richie Ryan?"

Duncan hadn't anticipated that question and was caught off guard.

"You killed Richie Ryan, what did he do to deserve that?"

"I didn't mean to kill him."

"That's one hell of an accident to make, MacLeod," the prosecutor said.

"It wasn't an accident."

"Then you admit you murdered him."

"I didn't mean to."

"You didn't see who it was? Didn't recognize him?"

"Yes, I recognized him."

"So, you were able to identify who it was, you cut off his head, but you didn't mean to, that's quite an imagination you have, MacLeod. And let the record show that twice before, you also tried for his head and would've succeeded the second time were it not for the interference of a Watcher."

"I was suffering from a Dark Quickening at the time it happened."

"And the time before that?"

"I didn't know it was Richie, I was seeing…"

"'A demon tricked me into doing it' 'A spell made me do it', these aren't alibis, MacLeod," the prosecutor said, "They're elements for a fantasy novel. Do you _ever_ take responsibility for the things you do?"

"Yes."

"Oh really? Our records show that also in May of 1997 around the time you sent the police after Amanda Darieux, a Steven Keane came to see you regarding the massacre at the Battle of Culloden in 1746…why?"

"Because I killed English soldiers."

"And up till the day Steven Keane came to see you, how often had you thought about your murdering those men 250 years before?"

"I…don't remember."

"Was it on your mind the day before he arrived?"

"No."

"The previous week?"

"No."

"How about the year before that?"

"No."

"The year before that?"

"No."

"How about the previous decade?"

"No."

"The last century?"

"No."

"So, you have over 200 years carefree of the memory of killing mortal men…and you say you take responsibility for what you do?"

"I do…"

"You take responsibility for what you do, this includes killing people?"

"Yes."

"And does this also include letting men who you should've killed to protect innocent mortals from, walk away to kill again knowing that they had not and would never change?"

Duncan didn't know how to answer that one.

"The Immortal Mako ran down a mortal woman in cold blood with his truck, you did nothing, in fact it was your student Richie Ryan who had to be the one to protect the public from him, was it not?"

"She was accused of killing her husband."

"And that gives him a right to hit her with a 3600 pound truck when she's not been arrested, indicted, arraigned, tried or convicted?" the prosecutor asked, "Are you sure you weren't in the passenger seat of that truck when it happened?"

Duncan said nothing and the prosecutor continued, "You know an Immortal named Gregor Powers. Now, this Immortal _also_ had a history of goading mortals into doing stupid things that put their lives in danger, why didn't you take his head? Because he didn't kill any of your friends?"

"No."

"But he tried to kill Richie Ryan when he was still pre-Immortal, and at the time it happened he said that he could 'send you to the grave in a heartbeat and wouldn't feel a thing'. This is the kind of people you make friends with? You invite people who kill without remorse into the home of your mortal girlfriend? It never occurred to you that he might try and kill her too just to see if he could feel something?"

"Gregor's not like that."

"So it's okay if he kills the teenager you take in, it's okay if he kills complete strangers, you're okay with that, you condone that?"

"No I don't."

"Then why isn't he dead? You also knew another Immortal named David Keogh. He stalked a woman and chased her to her death, did he not?"

"He was obsessed with her, he loved her, she was scared of him, she was trying to get away from him and she fell to her death."

"And the two of you fought, and you let him walk away. Now you were dating a mortal woman named Anne Lindsey at that time, were you not?"

"I was," Duncan answered.

"You knew David Keogh was violent with women, you heard him say he would come for you again someday, and you let him walk away. It never occurred to you that he might kill Anne Lindsey just to spite you?"

"No."

"Well I guess it's a good thing then that she didn't stay with you much longer, otherwise she'd be buried alongside Tessa Noel, and all the other women you let die because you can't bear to take a friend's head when you know they're heartless killers and will never repent," the prosecutor told him.

"David Keogh never came after me."

"But unless you were to take his head, you could never guarantee that he wouldn't, or that he wouldn't kill any of the mortal women who get webbed into your life, could you?"

Duncan didn't answer and the prosecutor went back over to his desk and looked over a sheet of paper.

"You've made a lot of friends with Immortals over the years, and also lost a lot of them, haven't you, MacLeod?"

"Yes."

"And in fact you've killed some of them yourself, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"You know when you meet these people that it's going to come down to kill or be killed someday, so why do you even bother making friends with them?"

"It's hard not to."

"And you also know that by becoming involved with any mortal you put a bounty on their heads as well as your own, do you just not care about anybody but yourself?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then why would you endanger anybody else just to satisfy your own needs?" the prosecutor asked, "Did you tell Tessa Noel when you first met her that if she stayed with you she would be killed?"

"No but…"

"And when you first met Anne Lindsey, did you tell her that she would be at the business end of people's guns and vindictive Immortals' agendas?"

"No, I didn't…"

"You just didn't care, either that or you didn't think about it, you like to pretend you're not a part of the Game, don't you?"

"I don't want to be."

"But all you do is kill. You teach young people that they have to kill. For not wanting to be part of the Game, you sure do seem to be in love with the idea of it. What do you spend your every waking moment doing? Training, to fight, to kill, why? So you can live another hundred years, screw another 5000 women, let 1000 more innocent people die and let 2500 more heartless killers walk, you actually call that a life? What're you fighting for?"

"I fight to stay alive."

"But you train your students to die, die at your hands. Is that what you have in mind when you first take them in?"

"No."

"But you know you'll have to kill them someday, or they'll kill you, and you only care about yourself, isn't that true?"

"No!"

"No? Why did Kristin walk away after drowning an innocent woman? Because _you_ felt bad about the position you'd put her in. Why was Richie Ryan tossed aside like a bag of garbage? Because _you_ decided he couldn't stay with you anymore. Why did Tessa Noel's murderer go unpunished? Because _you_ couldn't be bothered with killing a cold blooded murderer who felt no remorse because he was so doped up on drugs he didn't even remember the night he blew an innocent woman away."

"I did what I thought as best at the time," Duncan said.

"You also remember a man called Haresh Clay do you not?" the prosecutor asked.

"Yes."

"Moments before you killed him you were reported telling Richie Ryan that he shamed you. This was your reason for killing him?"

"He was coming after Richie."

"Because Richie Ryan killed _his_ student, correct?"

"Yes."

"Which is all part of the Game, it was Richie Ryan's challenge, not yours, and not your place to interfere," the prosecutor told him, "But you saw fit to kill him simply because he shamed you…how many people do you think _you've_ shamed, MacLeod? If I was a friend or a relative of yours, I'd certainly be shamed to have to know you, so by your own law that would give me just cause to kill you."

"Immortals fight to the death, it's the Game," Duncan said.

"The Game is reason enough for Immortals to kill one another, MacLeod, you shouldn't go inventing additional motives where there shouldn't be."

"Haresh Clay killed my friend Graham Ashe, Graham pleaded for his life and Haresh killed him."

"Which is all part of the Game," the prosecutor said, "You don't make friends, you don't think you can escape it, you just play it and play it to win. You however, have spent your whole life trying to skate around the rules while still playing, you can't have it both ways, you either follow the rules, or you die."

The judge banged his gavel. "The court has heard enough. The jury room has been wired for sound so every word of this proceeding has been clearly audible in the room next to us. We will now bring in the jury and hear their verdict."

The bailiff went over to a door and opened it up and in stepped twelve other Immortals all in black, but the lights were so dim that Duncan couldn't tell what they looked like. They formed in two rows of six with the two on the end facing the judge.

"How does the jury find the defendant, Duncan MacLeod, madam foreperson?" the judge asked.

"Guilty," a woman said.

"Juror number two?"

"Guilty."

The first two people went around to the back of the lines and the next two stepped forth.

"Juror number three?"

"Guilty."

"Juror number four?"

"Guilty."

They two went around to the back of the line and the next two stepped up front.

"Juror number five?"

"Guilty."

"Juror number six?"

"Guilty."

And they switched again.

"Juror number seven?"

"Guilty."

"Juror number eight?"

"Guilty."

And again.

"Juror number nine?"

"Guilty."

"Juror number ten?"

"Guilty."

And again.

"Juror number eleven?"

"Guilty."

"And juror number twelve?"

"Guilty, Your Honor," Methos answered.


	2. Chapter 2

Duncan felt the rug pulled out from underneath him. Methos, the man he had trusted, the man he had confided in time and again, a member of the jury that convicted him!

Methos wouldn't even make eye contact with him, instead he looked straight ahead at the judge, who seemed pleased with the verdict.

"The court thanks the jury for their time, now all that's left to be determined in regards to sentencing, will be whether the defendant is to face death, or life imprisonment in the dungeon."

"If it pleases the court, Your Honor," Methos said, "We wish to stress the relevancy of life imprisonment. We've deliberated on this matter and don't believe there exists an Immortal who has committed an act so appalling, so atrocious, so horrible that they deserve the punishment of taking Duncan MacLeod's quickening."

"So noted," the judge replied, "Duncan MacLeod, you have been found guilty by a jury of your peers of the charges listed, I sentence you to life imprisonment. That is all, we're adjourned."

Two guards came over and grabbed Duncan and forced him to his feet and hauled him away. He looked over and saw Methos with just a crack of a smile on his face. Duncan tried to break away from the guards and lunged at him, "You! You! You bastard! You were in on this the whole time!"

"As you said, MacLeod," Methos told him, condescendingly, "I'm an actor."

That was when all common sense fell away for Duncan. He struggled against the guards' strength and tried to get away from them. But they hauled him back down the corridor he'd come up and returned him to the cell, threw him in, locked the door and left.

Duncan screamed and pounded the bars on the door. They couldn't do this to him! Life imprisonment, for an Immortal that meant...how long? A thousand years? Two thousand? Five thousand? As long as time continued, he would always be shut up in this place, unless he could manage to get out. He looked around at his surroundings and realized the only way out was to get the door unlocked. Well, he decided, he'd wait and when the guards came back, he'd try and escape then.

How much time passed, Duncan couldn't tell. Maybe it was an hour, maybe it was two, but he didn't hear anybody and he didn't see anybody. There were no other prisoners locked up, and the guards didn't come down for anything. He decided to wait and see how long it would take for them to come. Another hour passed, then another, and another, and they never came.

Duncan yelled down the corridor for the guards or somebody to come down there, but nobody did. He spent the night yelling and banging on the bars waiting for somebody to come about something, but as the night passed, he was left by himself. Nobody came to see him and he never heard anybody nearby. It was with great horror that he realized he was all alone and possibly, very likely, always would be.

Time dragged on. Maybe it was only hours that had passed or maybe it was days, by now Duncan had no concept of time. All he knew was that he hadn't seen a soul since the guards had brought him here after the trial. His chest hurt, his throat was burning, his mouth felt like sandpaper, he'd had nothing to eat or drink since he was brought to this God forsaken place.

"_MacLeooood…"_

Who was calling him? Looking up at the ceiling he thought that maybe he'd just fallen asleep and had only dreamt it, but he could hear it again, a woman's voice calling him.

"_MacLeooood, where are you, MacLeod?"_

"Amanda?"

He knew it was impossible but he still looked around the cell, trying to make sense of what was going on.

And then suddenly there she was, as if she'd just appeared out of nowhere. It was Amanda, but not necessarily the Amanda he knew. She was shorter, looked younger, like a teenager, her hair was black and cropped, and she was dressed in black jeans, black boots, and a black leather jacket with spikes sticking out of it. There was a cold and evil look in her eyes as she smirked coyly at him.

"What's the matter, Duncan? Don't you want to kiss me?"

As the last syllable left her mouth, she got close enough to Duncan that she was able to punch him in the stomach. He groaned in pain and doubled over. When he looked up again, Amanda was gone.

Then she appeared again behind him, this time she was swinging little spiked metal balls on chains. "Come on, MacLeod, let's play," she said.

Duncan heard something from the other side of the cell and he turned and saw Richie appear, looking somewhere between the appearances he bore the first and last times Duncan saw him. He was younger, a teenager still, but his boyish charm was gone, his eyes were hard and cold.

"What's the matter, MacLeod?" he asked, "You suddenly opposed to attacking your friends? Since when?"

Duncan looked from Richie to Amanda and turned again and saw several other people in the cell with him; Kronos, Haresh Clay, James Horton, Mako, Jim Coltec, Nefertiri, Kristin, Tessa, all looking the same, all closing in on him.

He knew there was nowhere to turn, nowhere to go, he was trapped. Slowly, they all advanced towards him and then they charged at him and they all grabbed at him and he screamed as he felt them pulling him apart.

* * *

Duncan turned on his side and away from the hand that touched him. His eyes remained shut tightly as he mumbled something to himself over and over.

"Well doctor, what do you make of it?" Amanda asked.

Adam Pierson looked up from the patient and over at the doctor, Amanda Darieux, who had called him in to look at her newest patient, who had been brought in just that night.

"We'll need to run some additional tests but insofar as I can tell, he's lost his mind," Dr. Pierson answered.

"That's what I'm thinking too," Amanda said, "When he was first brought in he was acting so wild, I thought he had overdosed. We set to pump his stomach but he didn't have any drugs in him."

"And this," Adam pointed at the man facing the wall, "Is how he acts now that he's calmed down?"

"Yes," Amanda answered, "I just don't know what I'm going to tell the family."

"Well for the moment you'll want to tell them that we have to call in another doctor to further examine him and conduct more tests, but offhand it looks like he suffered from a mental breakdown," Adam told her, "Nothing unusual happened?"

"They wouldn't tell me," Amanda said, "He sounded like a very levelheaded person, not a user, he drinks but not excessively, on average he doesn't take risks."

"That all might be true," Adam said, "But we know something they either don't know or aren't willing to admit to."

Adam rolled down the sleeves on his coat, covering up the tattoo on his wrist.

"Who'd he kill?" Amanda asked.

"A very old Immortal named Kenji Ikeda," Adam told her, "Very smart, very dangerous, very crafty. He was notorious for the unusual mind tricks he used to convince his opponents they were going crazy. Apparently he must've decided in death he was going to make the real thing happen for his opponent because MacLeod's mind has gone bye-bye."

Amanda looked down at MacLeod and asked Adam, "Do you think there's any hope for him?"

"A few Immortals, the really old ones, after a while they do just lose it and go nuts…those that are still alive, some of them are sent to a place where they're looked after until further notice. Some people are trying to find treatments, cures, something that can help them, restore their memories, return them to their right minds." He shook his head sadly, "So far nothing's worked and nothing in the future looks promising either."

"Well," Amanda said, "I guess all that's left to do is break the bad news to the family."

The two doctors left the room, Amanda went down one corridor and Adam Pierson went another way. He stopped outside of a room where a young woman had just given birth. The door opened and out came the woman's father, James Horton, and her uncle, Joe Dawson, who were both smoking "It's a girl" cigars.

"Adam," Joe said, noting the somber look on his friend and associate's face, "What's the matter?"

Adam leaned in close to the men so what he said went no further than the three of them. "MacLeod was brought in tonight after taking the head of Kenji Ikeda, his wife was worried about his erratic behavior…he's been locked up in a private room in the mental ward all night."

"So?" James asked inquiringly.

"Ikeda's quickening has turned MacLeod's mind to mush," Adam said, "He doesn't know where he is, he doesn't know what's going on."

"How extensive is the damage?" Joe asked, "Is he even capable of thinking?"

"Rest assure he can think, but that's about all he can do," Adam said, "The odds look likely that he'll never wake up, and never be able to talk about what he's going through."

Horton and Dawson looked to each other respectively. It looked like the time was drawing near for them to close the report on MacLeod.

* * *

The elevator opened on the first floor and Amanda stepped out and headed down the corridor, trying to think of how to explain MacLeod's situation to his family. As she headed slowly down the hall, she heard a voice from behind, exclaiming, "Mom! Mom!"

Amanda turned around and saw her 10-year-old towhead son, Kenny, running towards her. Kenny jumped up and into his mother's arms.

"Kenny, what're you doing here?" Amanda asked, "You shouldn't be here, it's after four o' clock in the morning. Have you even been to bed? How did you get here?"

"I walked," he answered.

"You walked," Amanda repeated, "You walked ten blocks at four o' clock in the morning to come see me? What're you doing down here so late?"

He looked up at her and said, "You're late."

"I know dear but you know my shift's over in a few minutes," she put him down, "I have to go talk to a family in the waiting room, and then we can go."

"Okay."

Amanda entered the waiting room and saw the blonde woman seated at the opposite side of the room who stared straight ahead, with the redheaded boy beside her looking at magazines. As soon as the woman saw Amanda, she stood up and asked, "What happened to Duncan?"

"Miss Noel," Amanda said, "Your husband appears to have suffered from a mental breakdown."

"That's not possible," she said.

"We're not sure of anything just yet," Amanda told her, "We're going to run some more tests on him and we're having an expert fly in to take a look at him. After that we'll let you know what we find, but right now we're just going by what's at hand. Dr. Lindsey's going to fly in from New York and won't be here until tomorrow afternoon."

Tessa leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes for a minute as if trying to process this information. Then, as if some revelation washed over her, she opened her eyes and very calmly said, "I guess there's no point in us waiting here the whole time. My son has a race tomorrow…"

"Forget the race," Richie said, "We can't go when Mac's in here…"

"No we should," Tessa told him, "He would want us to."

"Miss Noel, I'm going to be honest with you," Amanda said, "Right now it looks very bad. Now maybe when Dr. Lindsey gets here she'll be able to tell us something different, but based on what we have right now, it doesn't look like your husband is going to come out of this."

"Can we see him?" Tessa asked.

"I wouldn't advise it, it wouldn't change things for him and it would be hard for the both of you. He doesn't know who he is, he doesn't know where he is, he doesn't know what's going on. You might want to consider if it's worth waiting the rest of your life to get back somebody who's gone. We'll call you tomorrow when we get the final report."

Tessa nodded slowly and got up from her seat, "Come on, Richie, let's go home."

Richie got up and followed Tessa out of the hospital. Amanda went to get her coat and her purse and then she and her son were going to get out of there as well. As she got her arms into her coat, a young woman with dark hair came in and called to her, "Hey Amanda, is my husband still here?"

"Yeah Alexa, he'll be down soon," she replied, "Come on, Kenny."

* * *

Up on the second floor, Adam, Joe and James were wrapping up their discussion about MacLeod.

"My wife's probably looking for me," Adam said as he took off his coat, "I better get going."

"I still can't figure it out," Joe said, "I've read every report on MacLeod, he was supposed to be better than this."

"Well the fact that a quickening was able to do this to him," Adam said, "Suggests to me that he was either not so good or not so strong. But on another hand, Ikeda's strength always was his ability to find his opponents' weaknesses…I would imagine even in death he could find a way to find MacLeod's and manipulate it to the greatest power. From the chronicles, it would seem that MacLeod's greatest weakness and his greatest enemy were all in his mind…every past Watcher he had commented on how guilt-ridden he could get, over this, over that…well now it could very well be that he has to live, aware of only the things he should've done differently. A mind is a terrible thing to waste with guilt."

"This coming from an expert," Joe commented, "You of course having never felt guilt in your life."

"Yes and you can note it's been a very pleasant life," Adam replied, "I spent years losing my conscience and I'm not about to have anybody go find it and bring it back to me like a boomerang. MacLeod would've done well to learn the same lesson a long time ago. Instead now he's going to spend eternity in some psycho ward talking gibberish to himself. He should've learned. He thought he was so damn smart, he should've learned there was a penalty to pay for acting as judge, jury and executioner over everybody else. Now it's all come back to bite him in the ass."

"Do you think he'll ever come out of it?" Joe asked.

"Maybe," Adam replied, "Someday…but not in any of our lifetimes I'd imagine."

"Just can't believe it," Joe said.

"Well don't kid yourself, Joe, you read the files, you know what he was…an egotistical, judgmental bastard who lived by one set of rules and expected the rest of the world to live by another set. He survived 400 years because he never _really_ had to live with himself, the things he's done, the decisions he's made, he could always attribute the tragedies to somebody else's wrong decision or poor judgment…now Mr. MacLeod will have a nice _long_ time to just be by himself and think, he can think about what he's done, and what he should've done, and he can think about what he wants to do when Ikeda decides he's sick of playing with him. Maybe when that day comes there'll be somebody ready to put up with him again, but not today, and not us, and I pray that woman who came in with him has enough sense to get the hell out and get on with her life while she still has one. A life like MacLeod's isn't worth wasting away waiting for."

"You never did like MacLeod, did you, Adam?" Joe asked.

Adam stopped and looked from one man to the other before bluntly replying, "Nope. His attitude was always too self-righteous for me to stomach. Now if you'll excuse me, it's the beginning of a beautiful day and I intend to spend it with my wife, not standing around here wondering about MacLeod's future. He has none, and he has nobody but himself to blame for it. Good day, gentlemen."

"Good day."

Joe turned to his brother-in-law and said, "Let's go see if they put her in the maternity ward yet. How does it feel to be a grandfather now?"

Horton laughed, "I'll say this much, she's not dating until she's 23."

"That's the same thing you said about your daughter," Joe said, "Which means she'll start at around 16."

* * *

Adam Pierson went down to the first floor of the hospital and met with his wife Alexa. They left the hospital and got in their car to go home. The sun was already starting to rise in the east and the sky was blue and the temperature was already pleasant. Alexa put the top down on their car and just as they were about to back out of the parking lot, they heard somebody call to them.

"HEY!"

Adam turned and saw Amanda and her son Kenny a few slots over in her white Thunderbird convertible, also about to leave.

"His family go home?" Adam asked.

"They left about half an hour ago," Amanda answered, "You think they'll be okay?"

"Hope so," he replied.

"Me too," Amanda said.

She looked around and backed out of the parking lot and commented before they headed down the street, "Nice day, isn't it?"

"For everybody except Duncan MacLeod," Adam thought aloud. Hell, it wasn't like he was going to lose any sleep over that guy in the psycho ward.

"_Who_?" Alexa asked.

Adam turned to his wife and said simply, "Nobody…so, what do you want to do today?"


End file.
